Split, Page 2

Two

  The phone kept ringing.

  "Mitch, pick up damn you," said Erika to the emptiness of her kitchen. It had been three days since their discussion. She felt a lot better than she had that morning, both physically and emotionally, and she needed to get out again. The best way to accomplish that was to call Mitch and mend the fence she had broken. Or it would have been if Mitch bothered to answer his phone. The call went to voicemail, and when the beep sounded she said, "Mitch, this is the third time I've tried calling you. I don't know what's going on, or if you still have issues with what I did, but the cops aren't beating down my door, so everything is okay. I'd like to continue my training if you're up to it. If you get this, I'll be at the usual spot. See you there." Erika pressed the off button on the phone and placed it back on the charger. Then she started to get ready to leave.

  The meet-up spot was a necessity. She had no cell phone, so Mitch, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn't be able to reach her once she left the house. The lack of a phone was part of her continued existence living off the grid. It was a life she had carefully crafted after her parents had left the summer before her senior year of high school. Everyone assumed she had gone with them, a misconception she had never tried to correct. The house was an anomaly, having changed mortgage brokers so many times after the housing collapse that it belonged to no one. Stuck in limbo. Money showed up in the form of a pension her mother had started receiving a few years ago, but had elected not to transfer to her new life. It was a meager amount, less than even welfare, but Erika didn't have many needs, so it was enough. Most of it went to keeping the electricity and heat on, with the rest allowing for a steady diet of noodles and sandwiches. No family, no friends, no life. Until Mitch.

  She struggled at times to understand how her perception of the world had changed in the two months since Mitch had entered her life. It wasn't enough for reality to be hard. No, the world had to be the battleground between Heaven and Hell, something Mitch called the Eternal War, which was fought mainly by the foot soldiers of each side. The soldiers of Hell were the vampires and other minor demons that had found their way out of Hell. On the side of Heaven were those who Hunted them. Erika had come down firmly on the side of Heaven, with Mitch's help of course.

  She left out the front door, bundled in the standard attire for her nights out Hunting. A dark purple knitted cap adorned her head, along with an old Navy peacoat that she had found in her father's closet shortly after his departure. It was cold enough outside that she had decided it prudent to wear a dark-blue sweatshirt underneath the coat, even with the potential for exercise available. Sweating wouldn't be pleasant, but neither would being cold, so it was a compromise she readily made. Her gun, the Beretta subcompact, was tucked into the inside pocket of the peacoat. Not really in an easy place to get to, but at least she had it this time, even if she didn't plan to use it. Her hands were covered in a pair of black leather gloves that Mitch had given her early in their training. They were adequate at keeping her fingers warm, but that wasn't the point. They were there to keep her fingerprints from appearing at a scene should things go awry. She wore an old tattered pair of jeans with black long john bottoms underneath, and finished off her outfit with a pair of black combat boots that she had picked up at the local Salvation Army center.

  The sun was going down as she left the house and started heading toward the meet-up place, a local pizzeria she frequented when she felt like something more than ramen noodles for dinner. It was close to her house, if half a mile can be considered close in the deep Buffalo winter, and located off Tonawanda Street, which made it easy for Mitch to get to. The tiny restaurant had been a concession from Mitch based upon her advice to avoid parking on her street once the snow started flying. Snow crunched methodically under her boots as she moved along the sidewalk, and her breath came out in crystallized clouds which always made her want to pretend she was smoking for some odd reason.

  Papa's Pizza was busy, which wasn't unusual for a night that the Sabres were playing. The owner, a guy who looked nothing like a Papa, had somehow managed to wrangle a couple of flat-screen televisions out of his budget and dutifully had them tuned into the channel the game would be showing on. They didn't have a liquor license, instead opting for a BYOB policy that was in effect during any games going on. And even though the game was over an hour away, Erika saw most of the patrons were already halfway through their stash. Given that the Sabres had been on their usual streak of mediocrity, it hardly struck her as unusual, though it did give her extra incentive to depart as soon as possible. Drunken hockey fans were only slightly less dangerous than drunken football fans, American or otherwise. She ordered a slice of pepperoni and a pop, then found a table in the corner away from most of the crowd.

  By the time she finished, the sun had set and the debates between patrons were starting to get a little heated. As she methodically wiped the grease from her fingers, the door opened and in walked Mitch, along with a man who seemed a little out of his element. He looked as if he was a smidge over six feet tall, and wore a heavy thigh length coat. He wasn't wearing a hat so the tips of his ears were slightly pinkish in color, and he looked like almost every other resident of Buffalo in that he had spent a little too much time out of the sun. What separated him from the rest of the restaurant's patrons was his demeanor. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

  Mitch scanned the room until his eyes met Erika's. Then he tapped the other man on the arm and they both headed toward her. Erika froze, not quite sure what to do.

  "Evening Erika," said Mitch as they sat down. "I would like for you to meet Adonis. Adonis, this is Erika."

  "Hello," said Adonis with a smile and a slight wave of his hand. His voice was halting, with just a hint of an Eastern European accent underneath, as much as one would expect if they had grown up in a household that used English as a second language.

  "And why is Adonis here?" she asked tentatively.

  Mitch sighed and said, "After our discussion the other day, I realized that I can't do this on my own. You quite obviously need more than just me to help train you, so I'm bringing Adonis in to help fill that need. That way, we can avoid what happened a few days ago."

  "I told you I was sorry about that," she said, a hint of frustration in her voice.

  "Mitch realizes that," said Adonis. "But he can't always be around."

  Erika glanced at him then turned back to Mitch. "Does he know? About…?"

  Mitch nodded. "We've talked about you since shortly after you and I met, though he's the only other person I've talked to in regards to this. Your abilities are a bit too unique for one man to keep to himself, wouldn't you agree?"

  Erika wasn't sure how to answer, so she stayed quiet. Adonis didn't seem to notice and said, "I visited Mitch yesterday to see how he's progressed with you, which is how I got wrangled into this. It helps that I think he's correct in you needing more than one mentor. At the very least you need someone focused on dealing with your ability. That's where I come in. It's important for you to continue your training, but I can't help being curious about the nature of your special gift."

  "I don't see it as much of a gift," said Erika meekly. "I can't control it so it requires me to submit myself to attack."

  "Not to mention that I think it's too early to focus away from your physical training," said Mitch. He gave Adonis a disapproving look. "You can wait until she's mastered at least some of the basics of defending herself before we figure out how to master her ability."

  Adonis bowed his head in deference to Mitch. "I shall wait my turn then."

  Mitch nodded, and turned back to Erika. "Now that we're all on the same page, are you ready to keep going?"

  Erika hesitated. It was almost too much to absorb. She had just gotten used to Mitch, and now here was someone else who wanted to help her. Suspicions rose in her mind, conspiracy theories about why, but she quickly shut them down and pushed them away. She had come to Papa's with the intention of going out
to train. So she nodded and said, "That's why I'm here."

  "Then let's go."

  The two of them stood up, and Adonis offered to help Erika out of her seat. She waved off the hand and downed the last of her pop as she joined them. She didn't entirely trust Adonis, couldn't really, but she did trust Mitch, and didn't feel he would saddle her with anyone he didn't trust in return. A part of her remained cautious though. She hadn't made it on her own for so long without learning to take things slow.

  They went outside and Erika paused when she didn't see Mitch's SUV. "Where's your car?" she asked.

  "We came in my car," said Adonis. He pointed to a beaten up subcompact from the late nineties, with a color so faded that it wasn't even a color anymore. The standard crust of evaporated salt water stood out along the lower edge of the body, matching every car that existed over a certain age in Buffalo. "You'll have to pardon the heater in this thing," he said as he opened the door. "It doesn't work so well these days."

  That made her chuckle. "I'd almost be disappointed if it didn't, judging by the look of this heap."

  Adonis smiled. "Then I'm glad it meets your expectations." Mitch held the passenger seat forward so she could climb into the back, then got in himself. Adonis turned the key, and the engine turned over a couple of times before it finally came to life. "Now," he said, "where are we headed?"